


Secret Tales from the Empire

by ks_villain



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Drabble Collection, Kinks, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-28 03:36:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/987194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ks_villain/pseuds/ks_villain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of kinky drabbles and one shots featuring Thrawn, Pellaeon, Car'das and Flim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the amazing [Zedille](http://archiveofourown.org/users/zedille/pseuds/zedille) for beta-reading and to all the other people who gave me prompts and inspired me with their ideas.

**OBEDIENCE – Thrawn/Pellaeon**

_Thrawn enjoys Pellaeon's obedience almost as much as seeing him squirm_

“Sir?” Pellaeon, who had always taken great pride in his professionalism, hated how his voice wavered.

“Not yet, Captain.” The words were spoken softly, almost whispered, but they carried an unmistakable tone of command.

Pellaeon bit his lower lip hard. He did not trust himself to speak up again, not when it was getting more and more difficult with every passing second to fight against the rising tide of raw pleasure. Part of him wanted nothing more than to just give in and let himself be consumed by it, but another part of him was too proud to give in so easily.

The wickedly skilled hands gave him a moment of respite, as if sensing how close he was, before resuming their ministrations with increased fervour. Pellaeon threw back his head, biting back a curse. He tried to hide his face under his arms, but Thrawn was having none of it.

“Look at me!” The command echoed like a whiplash in Pellaeon's mind.

He obeyed instinctively, but immediately wished he hadn't. A thin, amused smile lit up Thrawn's long face as he watched him fight for control, and Pellaeon could feel all the muscles in his lower body tightening as a hot wave of embarrassment washed over him.

His breath came in short little gasps, his legs were trembling with the effort it took him to hold still, to keep himself from thrusting into the torturous touch, but eventually – after what seemed like an eternity – he managed to win back control over his body and pull himself back from the brink, the sweet bliss of relief.

“Very good,” the smooth voice purred, sounding rather breathless all of a sudden. The tone sent a shiver along Pellaeon's spine, almost pushing him over the edge after all.

 

***

**BREATHPLAY – Thrawn/Pellaeon**

_in which the tables are turned and Pellaeon teases Thrawn (have you counted how much Thrawn gets force choked, seriously)_

Pellaeon felt a little light-headed as he gently tugged the white uniform collar open. His hands were steady, but his heart was hammering in his ears, drowning out all sound and apparently all reason too.

Part of him still had trouble believing that he was actually going to do this, but he also knew that it was too late to turn back now. He had made a promise, and he was not a man to go back on his word.

When the knuckles of his fingers brushed against bare skin, Pellaeon was so concentrated on his task he almost didn't catch the soft moan before it was cut off. The sound went straight to his groin, made his cheeks burn and a familiar kind of heat coil in his gut.

He had to suppress the sudden urge to grind their lower bodies together. Instead, he took a few deep breaths, gathering his courage, before he slipped his hands under the starched fabric.

Somewhat to his surprise, the pulse under his fingertips was racing, mirroring his own frantic heartbeat. It was a silent admission of things that could not be said aloud, Pellaeon knew that much, and he found it strangely relieving that he was not the only one affected so strongly by their unusual position.

His touch grew bolder at that, more deliberately teasing. He took his time stroking every inch of blue skin he could reach, methodically working his way from the tense jaw to the beginning of the collarbone.

The anticipation building between them was palpable by now, almost overwhelming. Pellaeon could not bring himself to meet Thrawn's gaze, but he felt the weight of those burning eyes on him, urging him on. He did not oblige them, not yet.

He continued his careful explorations, keeping his eyes firmly on the sight before him, the heaving chest, the throat arched back and bared to him, the intoxicating contrast of supple skin and hard angles. When he let his fingers linger over the throbbing pulse point and gave the tiniest hint of pressure, a violent shiver went through the body beneath him.

Realizing that it would be cruel to stall much longer, Pellaeon steeled himself and curled his fingers around the tempting curve of Thrawn's neck. He could do this, he reminded himself.

Whispering an apology – he did not know if it was for the teasing or for what he was about to do next – he tightened his grip, slowly and very carefully, pressing down with his full weight.

Then he finally dared to look up, just in time to watch the glowing eyes flutter shut.

 

***

**MIRRORS – Flim**

_Flim's uniform kink is showing (and another stupid headcanon of mine is satisfied)_

Alone in his quarters, Flim could not resist running his hands over the smooth white fabric. The material was surprisingly soft, very subtle to the touch. He was sure that he had never worn anything comparable, even if his line of work required him to wear all kinds of disguises and costumes at times.

Looking back into the mirror, he took up his “Thrawn” pose, legs slightly spread, arms folded behind his back, shoulders impossibly straight. The overall effect was lessened a bit by the fact that he was not currently wearing his contact lenses, but it was still quite impressive.

Flim had no idea where the others had procured an authentic Grand Admiral uniform, but he found that it was looking rather good on him (naturally, he was after all the spitting image of the late Admiral).

He did not deny that wearing the uniform made acting the part so much easier, but there was more to it. Wearing the uniform made him feel _powerful_. Today he had gotten a first taste of what it was like to be Thrawn. Everyone on board had obeyed his commands without question, and Flim had decided that he liked that part of his new job almost as much as the uniform itself.

He straightened out a few crinkles in the area of his waist, turning in front of the mirror to admire himself from a different angle. Hands still busy stroking over the uniform vest, he eyed a certain part of his anatomy, idly wondering if the real Thrawn had ever...

The con artist jumped a bit when the beeping of his com-link tore him from his thoughts.  
“When you are done admiring yourself in the mirror, we would request your presence on the bridge, Admiral.”

Flim could feel his cheeks heating up at the mocking tone in Tierce's voice. He was absurdly grateful for the make-up that hid his reaction from the hidden cameras (that someone had undoubtedly placed in his quarters). Huffing a little dramatically, he grabbed for the contact lenses to complete his disguise.

He'd have to get rid of the cameras soon.

 

***

**SENSORY DEPRIVATION – Thrawn/Car'das**

_Car'das needs to calm down and Thrawn gives a helping hand ( a little gift for[estelendur](http://archiveofourown.org/users/estelendur))_

Among all the strange new experiences he had made during these past few weeks, this one was definitely the oddest, Car'das decided.

In the complete and utter darkness that surrounded him, his own heavy breathing sounded ridiculously loud. He swallowed, tried to keep his breathing even, but his chest was impossibly tight, as if there was somehow not enough oxygen in the air.

Car'das fidgeted in his seat, cursing himself for having been talked into this. And without putting up much resistance, either. Unless blushing and protesting unconvincingly counted in his favour.

He was reluctant to admit it, even to himself, but he had been curious too. It was always difficult to refuse one of Thrawn's proposals, but never more than when he used that tone, half requesting and half tempting...

At the first tentative touch on his shoulder, Car'das whole body tensed up. His heart skipped a beat, before he realized that it was just Thrawn's hand, soothing over the taut muscles of his back, coaxing them to relax. He tried to peek from under the blindfold, but it couldn't see a thing.

“You are tense.”

It was just a simple observation, but Car'das thought he heard a hint of concern in Thrawn's controlled voice, among a myriad of other emotions even more carefully hidden. A second hand joined the first, and together they started kneading his neck and shoulders, eliciting a startled groan from the Corellian.

Then his body caught up with the fact that _Thrawn was touching him_ and while his shoulders lost some of their stiffness as they were expertly massaged, another part of his anatomy hardened quickly and inexorably, completely ignoring Car'das’ mortification.

It would hardly be the first time Thrawn had caused that reaction in him, but this was really not the right time to engage in...

“Do you trust me, Jorj?”

Thrawn's voice came from behind him, very close, putting an immediate stop to his racing thoughts. Car'das just bobbed his head up and down, unable to speak.

Thrawn gently squeezed his shoulders, before his hands came to rest on his arms.

Was this supposed to be some sort of Chiss trust exercise? The thought seemed rather ridiculous, but Car'das found that it was getting increasingly difficult to think, between the warmth spreading between his shoulder blades and his half-hard cock rubbing against the fabric of his trousers.

But no matter what this was supposed to be, Car'das realized with sudden clarity that he had meant it. He did trust Thrawn implicitly. And he was curious where this would lead. Why not relax and give it a shot?

He licked his lips to wet them a little, then slowly leaned back into the touch, feeling the solid warmth of another body behind him. He was leaning against Thrawn's chest, he realized, and that thought did funny things to his insides.

“Good. Just relax.”

That tone again. Car'das could not help shivering as warm breath blew over his earlobe. He noticed that his body immediately tried to obey Thrawn's suggestion, without him making a conscious effort to do so. He could feel his pulse slowing down, his breathing getting deeper and more regular.

It was against all logic. Considering where he was and in what kind of situation he found himself in, Car'das knew he should have probably reacted differently. But right now he felt more secure and a lot calmer than he had in a long time, probably since the beginning of this strange journey.

Then he felt something soft brush against his neck, and he stopped thinking altogether for a while.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> two gifts and two old drabbles, featuring Thrawn, Pellaeon and Flim (and Rukh)

**SEX DREAMS – Flim/Pellaeon**

_a sequel of sorts to my shipswap fic for[ars:belli](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ars_belli), who originally requested Flim/Pellaeon (which I failed to deliver at that time, not sure if this is better, haha)_

Flim immediately knew he was dreaming. It was not the first time he had dreamt of being Thrawn, but something felt different this time; he just couldn't quite put his finger on it. They were on the bridge, but the lights were wrong and there was no crew, which made the usually busy crew pits seem eerily silent.

From his kneeling position between Flim’s legs, Pellaeon looked up with that thin, worshipful smile Flim had so often seen during the past few weeks, when he had been researching Thrawn and Pellaeon's history and relationship. The commander looked younger, barely a trace of grey in his hair, the lines of his face softer and less haunted. He looked just as he had in the vids.

Under the intensity of Pellaeon's gaze, Flim could feel his cheeks heating up. Filled with that strange sense of detachment one often experiences in a dream, he wondered how that must look on the blue skin of Thrawn's face. Of course the thought was absurd, he mentally shook himself, because he wasn’t really Thrawn.

The first touch on his knee was like lightning, setting all of his nerves on fire and tearing him from his thoughts. He could feel the warm body between his legs inching closer, gloved hands pushing his uniformed legs apart.

Flim watched transfixed as Pellaeon's strong hands smoothed over the white fabric of his uniform trousers, almost reverently, their movements slow and oddly gentle. As usual in those dreams, it appeared to matter little that he had never been particularly attracted to men. He was undeniably hard now.

Pellaeon's gaze dropped down into his lap and his smile turned into a broad smirk. Flim's breath caught in his throat at the sight. It was an expression that would have been more fitting on a smuggler or a pirate, he couldn't help thinking, and it transformed the stern features in a way that did not discourage his growing arousal at all.

“Allow me to help you with that... Sir.”

There was an insolent quality to the captain's voice that shocked Flim a bit, because he had never imagined Pellaeon speaking like that before.

When Pellaeon pressed his cheek against the inside of his uniformed thigh and murmured something unintelligible, Flim could feel the indistinct rumble of the man's voice. The vibrations travelled right to his groin and into his cock.

Flim moaned. Well, fuck. He decided he didn’t care if this was a dream, or how fucked-up any of this was in the first place; the pleasure felt very real. Pellaeon took it as a sign to start palming his erection through the tight uniform trousers, fingers pinching expertly and rubbing with just the right amount of pressure.

Biting back another moan, Flim allowed the sensations to wash over him, spreading his knees just a bit further so that he could have more of that skilled touch. There was a part of him that was taken aback by his own behaviour, but he ruthlessly silenced it.

The pleasure between his legs felt so good, and yet it wasn’t nearly enough. Through all the fabric, Pellaeon’s touch was more maddening than satisfying.

Once again, Pellaeon seemed to anticipate Flim’s thoughts. He was already reaching for the fly of his trousers and – oh, yes please...

This time, Flim vowed to himself, he would try his hardest not to wake up before the good part. 

 

***

**POWER ISSUES – Thrawn/Pellaeon**

_the dynamics of power and rank in their relationship are complicated_

After decades of service in the Imperial Navy (and several of them onboard Lord Vader’s personal flagship) the importance of following your superiors’ orders without question was something that had deeply ingrained itself in Pellaeon’s mind and heart. Hours and hours of drill had made it almost impossible to act contrary to a direct command or even dare speak out against it – something he had to painstakingly re-learn after Admiral Thrawn took control of the fleet.

Much to Pellaeon’s dismay, it turned out the very same Admiral had no qualms at all when it came to exploiting the conditioning of his subordinates for his own ends.

"Thank you Captain, that is all for now. Dismissed."

The tone was all smooth authority and, even if his legs were still shaky and his cheeks burning, Pellaeon almost clicked his heels together and turned on the spot. It took all his willpower to stay where he was, and a lot of bravado to grasp a fistful of white fabric and silence the next command once and for all.

**VOYEURISM– Thrawn/Pellaeon**

_Rukh is just doing his job_

Frozen in a rather awkward pose, Pellaeon looked up into the familiar, nightmarish face of Rukh, then back down at the slender blade that rested against his throat. Time seemed to stand still for several heartbeats, until the sensation of cold metal pressing against delicate skin finally broke through the haze of confusion and Pellaeon remembered to flush crimson with embarrassment.

Before he could pull himself together enough to bellow at the cursed Noghri, however, the perfectly composed and only slightly out-of-breath voice of the admiral rang loudly in the silence of the command room:

"I appreciate your zeal, Rukh, but Captain Pellaeon is hardly a danger to me. No matter what suspicious noises you might have heard."

 

***

 

**LANGUAGE/VOICE KINK – Thrawn/Pellaeon**

_for[Zedille](http://archiveofourown.org/users/zedille/pseuds/zedille), who wanted Thrawn speaking Cheunh _

 

The first time Pellaeon overheard the Admiral talking in his native tongue, he was unable to suppress the shiver that went down his spine. To hear the familiar voice utter such undeniably alien words, so harsh and disconcerting, made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He hurriedly turned around and left the room to give the Admiral some privacy.

The second time he fought briefly with himself, but in the end curiosity won out and he stayed to listen, pretending to be busy on a nearby console. Fascinated, he listened to the clipped accent and the strange cadence of the words. He still thought they sounded hard and inaccessible, but there was an underlying beauty in them that he had not perceived at first.

Much like other foreign things, he mused as he studied the Admiral's profile, some things just took a little time getting used to, before you could... appreciate them. His cheeks suddenly got a little warm and he tore his gaze away, chiding himself for his unprofessional thoughts.

Pellaeon was just about to return to his duties, when he caught a flash of crimson and looked over again to see blue lips twisting into an amused smile, indicating that his presence – and his reaction –had been noted. He had no idea if he should feel embarrassed or angry about that. Ultimately he decided to flee the scene before he was forced to sort out his emotions, but that just made him feel like a coward.

When months passed without another chance to hear that alien language again, he was almost disappointed, though he was reluctant to admit it to himself. His thoughts kept drifting back to the incident, no matter how hard he tried to forget it. Whenever he remembered those strangely compelling sounds, his heart beat a little faster, and sometimes just listening to the Admiral's voice was enough to send his mind off to directions he had always tried to avoid.

It took an assassination attempt and a near-death experience before Pellaeon was ready to follow those thoughts to their inevitable conclusion, and even longer for him to act upon them.

The next time he heard Thrawn speak his native tongue was in the privacy of his own quarters, the circumstances much less formal than at previous times. Frankly, he could no longer understand why he had ever thought the intonation of the words sounded harsh or even cold.

Maybe it helped that Thrawn's voice was much softer than it normally was, entirely different from the calm and controlled tones Pellaeon had come to expect. He’d already decided that he liked it even better this way.

And he rather enjoyed that this time their roles were reversed and for once it wasn’t him trembling under the other's tongue.

***


End file.
